The Dreams We Dream
by DramaDramaDrama
Summary: "My name is Ava Jo Kelling, and I am slowly but inevitably falling apart." First part in the 'Until It Breaks' series. From one day to another, fifteen year-old Ava's dreams become reality — including a mysterious, pale man within them. Accompany her as she leaves behind everything she ever knew, and desperately tries to make peace with her older sister Isa's disappearance.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**: _This is the first installment in my new series 'Until It Breaks', based on the equally titled one-shot which I have taken off. I hence apologize to those of you who read UIB — you'll already know the major theme of the story. Sorry. I hope you enjoy it anyway._

**Disclaimer**: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I am not making any financial gain from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Prologue

Dreams. Treasured and valued since the early beginnings of human civilisations, they have decided millions and millions of fates over the millennia. Separated into good and bad dreams, they entertain us, scare us, take us and show us what we have possibly been ignoring all along. Dreams are the voice of our subconscious — and so, until today, we depend on them for better judgement of complex situations.

But what if our dreams became reality?

There is an invisible line, fragile and delicate, that separates the world of our subconscious wishes and fears, commonly referred to as 'dreams', from the harsh world of reality. Once broken, there is no turning back. Once broken, reality and dreamworld blurr into one, resulting in total chaos where we are at the mercy of our deepest, most secret desires. In other words — once broken, we are entirely at our own mercy.

Alike magnets, we attract our positive desires, in the silent hope to keep our not so pleasant ones away. Yet we cannot bring ourselves to enjoy them, unconditional fear constantly dominating our mind. We live in a safe, yet unsatisfying bubble. Until it breaks.

My name is Ava Jo Kelling, and I am slowly but inevitably falling apart.


	2. Inconspicuous Fatalities

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer does. I am not making any financial gain from this, and no copyright infringement is intended either.

* * *

Chapter 1 — Inconspicuous Fatalities

_**Ava closed her**_ eyes, in vain attempting to shut out the noise surrounding her, as she allowed herself to fall onto the old, metallically framed bed that had been offered to her. The instant she hit the hard, unforgiving matress, a pleasant, blissful feeling consumed her, numbing her worries and sorrows momentarily. A tired smile on her lips, the sound of her family's commotion in the room beside her grew quieter and quieter as she slowly yet inevitably drifted off into a peaceful state of standby.

Yet Ava had not found herself able to sleep for many nights prior, and, to Ava's great misfortune, this night would not differ greatly.

Just as she was about to finally drift off into a carefree trance of sleep, the image of a girl entered her mind, tall and slender alike the stem of a flower with long, straight blond hair that reached up to her pelvis. Her eyes, a particularly unusual shade of brown that could have easily been interpreted as grey or green, seemed to glow with sadness, presenting each and every passerby with a weary look as she sat perfectly still, clutching her legs towards her body. Thick tears streamed down her childlike, angelic face, and no matter how loud Ava screamed at her, the girl did not react. It seemed even, as time passed, that the more Ava tried to communicate with her, the more inanimate the crying girl grew. And as a last scream escaped her lips, desperate and frightened, the girl shifted entirely, falling, until she lay completely and utterly motionless on the perfectly spotless white flooring.

Within the blink of an eye, Ava's screams died down. She silenced completely in terror, feeling as if it would be impossible to ever make a word leave her mouth again. Growing more and more numb while the girl's body slowly disappeared before her eyes, she did not even notice as she sat herself down, grasping her legs for support. The image of the girl failed to leave her mind, no matter how hard Ava tried to make it vanish.

Suddenly, a man was stood before her. Dirty brown hair framing his elegant, sophisticated face, he did not scream at the sight before him. Instead, offering Ava an insecure yet nevertheless charming smile, he projected his slender, pale arm towards her.

_"Allow me offer my assistance."_

Within an instance the imagine in Ava's mind perished, leaving her behind coated in anticipating sweat, eyes daring to fall out of their sockets in shock. Often had she had trouble to find oblivion in the peace bringing realm of sleep, but never before had she received a vision —if that was the correct classification at all— in the process of not-finding. And now, alike the slender being in her vision, the hauntingly faithful face of the unknown man failed to leave her mind.

Unsure as if to forget about the incident entirely or try to make sense of it, Ava hastily jumped out of bed, lighting the old green banker's lamp that was positioned on the long birch table beside the bed on her way. Instantaneously the small chamber was illuminated, and Ava found herself forced to see her reflection in her grandmother's golden art nouveau mirror. She frowned at the sight, directing her gaze towards the dark wooden floor in dissatisfaction. Then, in a split-second decision, she left the guest chamber for the living room.

The sounds of familiar voices communicating, debating, fighting even, was audible to Ava immediately, and, following it, meter by meter the sounds grew distincter and louder. Finally having reached her destination after several seconds, Ava politely knocked on the white, wooden door before entering. The voices immediately died down as she stepped over the threshold.

The small family was gathered around the round, painted-yellow dining table, heads turned towards Ava with an uncomfortable glimpse visible in their eyes. Her mother, a weary-seeming pale woman in her mid-fourties with perpetually sad brown eyes and shoulder length blonde hair, was the first to present the newcomer with a smile.

"Ava!" she exclaimed, standing up to greet her daughter, "Didn't you say you were going to bed with a headache?"

"I was" Ava said quietly, uncomfortable with the attention she was receiving. "But then... well, I'd prefer not to talk about it, actually. What matters is that my headache is gone."

"Isn't that wonderful!" an old woman of about eighty years chimed in. "Why don't you come sit with us, Ava."

The girl in question simply nodded. "Of course, grandma. So, what've I been missing?"

"Nothing" her younger brother replied. "Momma just said that we're visiting an old colleague of her's tomorrow evening." The disappointment was obvious in his voice.

She sighed. "Do I really have to come, Mom? You know I'm hardly the sociable type. I'd probably ruin your evening, anyways."

"Actually, you don't" her mother mentioned. "You're old enough to take care of yourself by now. So if that's okay, you can stay in the appartment by yourself."

"Sure" Ava agreed quietly, and the conversation returned to a discussion about preferrable day-time activities.

Engulfing the opportunity to not inevitably hold the metaphorical spotlight, Ava sank back in her seat, politely nodding once in a while, and allowed her thoughts to trail off in philosophical directions. She witnessed as the world outside of her grandmother's house turned darker and darker, eventually resting at an entirely raven shade. She witnessed as her brother's secret yawns grew more and more frequent, and took Noah's hand in hers once in a while to calm him. She witnessed how the bottle of Chardonnay on the table gradually decreased in volume — and, finally, she witnessed how several hours after her arrival, her father stood up, raising his voice, and suggested retreating towards their separate bedrooms.

Almost all of her family members had already reached the door when an urgent question came to Ava.

"Wait!" she whispered. Naught but her mother had remained in the living room, and she was presenting her daughter with her full attention. "When is Isa coming?"

Her mother merely stared at her, sadness present in her eyes once more.

"You said she would join us, wouldn't she?"

"Isa..." her mother began, sighing. "I'm sorry, darling. Isa's not coming."

"But..."

"Go to bed, darling. It's late."

Unwilling to start a debate, Ava obeyed, silently walking down the corridors in the hope to not wake anybody up.

After a few seconds, she finally opened the guest bedroom's door again; the lights were out, and Noah lay on the right bed, fast asleep and peaceful. On tiptoes Ava made her way to the vacant model, only one thought occupying her mind as she allowed herself to fall onto the covers once again:

_Where is my sister?_

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Yes, dear readers, the first chapter shows obvious parallels to The Story of Ruby Brown, my only successful work so far. It's nothing alike it, though. The entire Isa thing will play a fairly small role in the story, I promise. In this part of the trilogy at least._

_Anyways. Please leave me some feedback, it always make my day!_


	3. Conspicuous Fatalities

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended, and I am not making any financial gain from this, either

* * *

Chapter 2 — Conspicuous Fatalities

_**Ava, finally having**_ found peace in sleep only several hours before dawn, was roughly awoken by the sound of her brother's tablet game music at exactly three minutes before eight o'clock. She had had no dreams, eventhough the sophisticated face of the unknown man in her vision yesterday was strangely the first thing to come to her mind and continued haunting her, showing itself at unexpected moments, throughout the entire morning.

At breakfast, Ava behaved as inconspicuosly and politely as possible, hoping as usual not to gain any unwanted attention for herself. It wasn't as if there was any point in her talking, anyway — the main topic of discussion that morning was the day's to-be activity, and that was truthfully the last thing on Ava's mind. Ava loved her grandmother, just like anybody would, and she loved her parents and Noah. But she already spent a lot of time with her parents and brother at home, and her grandmother always lectured her about how a young woman her age had to be stubborn and extrovert and brave. And grandmother always spoke each and every one of her thoughts, good or bad, polite or impolite, appropriate or not. She hated that about her. And she hated Seattle.

And so, when the Kelling family finally decided to go to town for lunch and then go shopping for clothes, toys and souvenirs at the local mall, Ava could have honestly not cared less.

Because, as unusual as it was for her, her thoughts would surely be with her odd dream acquaintance anyways.

Offmindedly, she dressed in an entirely un-special pair of old blue jeans, red chucks and a white tanktop with the word 'Hope' printed on it, allowing her long caramel colored hair to fall freely onto her back. Once it was time to leave, Ava's thoughts were still occupied by the mysterious man.

Why did he save me? she asked herself over and over again. And why couldn't I save the slender girl if he could save me?

Ava Jo Kelling did not believe in dream-telling. She did not believe in magic, in black cats bringing bad luck, in witches, werewolves and vampires. She did not believe that in the form of a dream —or vision— a human's subconscious could transmit important information or soon-to-be events that it had somehow picked up supernaturally to its conscious. She believed in science, in justice, in the fact that she was entirely average.

Or so she told herself.

Truthfully, momentarily, Ava Jo Kelling did not know what to believe and what not. She was fifteen, and despite her averageness she wasn't particularly ugly. But she had never had a boyfriend or anything even halfway close, and she had never wanted one, either. The option that the man in her dream was nothing but her subconscious' idea of what an attractive male should look like therefore seemed ridiculous.

But if there wasn't even a reason for this man's existence, why was he haunting her? Nothing made sense anymore.

One thing was for sure: as hard as she tried to ignore him, his presence in her thoughts was constant.

Ava was grateful for how quickly the rest of the day seemed to pass by, increasingly looking forward to a time in the evening when she would be entirely alone with her thoughts and questions. It thankfully came quicker than she had expected. She stayed silent during lunch, merely eating a small plate of tomato soup, and tried desperately to stay invisible during shopping. Unfortunately, her mother and grandmother found her sitting on a bench in the food court after only about twenty minutes, deciding to drag her along; and so, not wanting to fight, Ava visited just about every store that sold anything even close to clothing in the company of her two female relatives. Two hours later, Ava Jo left the mall alongside her family. She had survived. The casualties consisted of three tops, one dress and a silver necklace with an eternity sign pendant.

One hour and ten minutes later, then, Ava's mother, father, grandmother and brother had dressed in their brand-new clothes and now stood in the small driveway of May Kelling's house, waving her goodbye.

Another minute and twenty-seven seconds later, Ava's mother's car sped out of the driveway and out onto the street. Ava was alone.

Sitting herself down on the large black leather sofa in the living room, Ava remembered her plans of thoroughly thinking through her situation in this unexpected freetime. She scoffed at the mere thought. She had seen the mysterious man so often in her mind the few hours prior, Ava decided, that thinking about him if only for one second longer, let alone analyzing his presence, would surely make her combust.

And so, acting completely on impulse, she decided to call her longtime friend Lilly.

"Ava!" she exclaimed happily shortly after the second dial-tone. "I thought you couldn't call because you had to share a room with your baby brother!"

"He's not a baby, Lilly" Ava replied. "He's ten. But yeah, I'm happy you haven't spontaneously died, either."

Lilly chuckled. "Yeah, I'm glad I didn't bite it, either."

Lilly Hope Fields, Ava thought. My one and only friend. Maestro in the art of turning verbal acts of kindness entirely against you.

A familiar voice Ava couldn't quite place yelled something in the background of the other line. "Am I disturbing anything?" Ava demanded shyly. "Have you got friends over, Jana or Ally or anybody else?"

"Something like that," Lilly said, but Ava could hear the uncomfortable tone in her voice. "Look, I'm really sorry but I gotta go. I hope you have a great time in Seattle. Take some pictures. I'd like to see them once you're back in Cambridge."

"Sure" the quiet girl quickly agreed, but the line had already gone dead. Strange, she thought. Lilly never just hangs up on me for Jana or Ally. Bewildered, she sat the phone back on its designated station.

What to do now?

For a single moment, Ava Jo Kelling contemplated staying in the house like her mother had ordered her, reading or watching a movie or simply staring at the outdated, dark and dusty furniture she had always detested until her family returned. For one or two seconds, to her this way to spend the evening seemed plausible.

But not for one millisecond longer.

Yes, Ava hated Seattle, just like she hated all big cities. Yes, Ava hated the idea of being required to change into warmer, more appropriate clothing. And yes, Ava hated having to worry about her mother's reaction once she found out.

But the idea of having to stay in this house, covered to the brink with dust and memories, both of which she didn't want — she hated that more. And she would be damned if she stayed in her prison out of free will.

And so, only four minutes and fifty-three seconds after her family's departure, fifteen year-old average Ava Jo Kelling, now in a hunter green long-sleeve top, the same old pair of blue jeans and light brown leather boots with her caramel hair in a ponytail, exited the safety of 18 Watson Avenue and, without once looking back, walked into the unusually cold summer night.

She detested the city. She detested the cold. She detested the way her grandmother's neighbours were giving her a once-over with their at all times judging eyes. But she loved how it was colder than usual, because that made this night, the night in which she'd simply left, even more special than it already was.

And she loved the exhilarating feeling of the anarchy she was practicing, the thrill of living dangerously. It was superior.

Watson Avenue was pretty central, and so before long, Ava Jo had reached the Seattle city center. Taking a picture or two for Lilly every once in a while, she felt her jaw drop at the sight of the many buzzing neon lights, skyscrapers and different kinds of people. There were old and young people, white and black, poor and rich, brunette and blonde and black-haired and fair-haired and pink-haired and green-haired and blue-haired ones. Quite frankly, there were too many kinds of people for Ava to notice. The crowd was big, and she was just another unimportant part of it.

She loved it.

Another wave of exhilaration sped through her young body, inspiring her to move on forward, farther and farther away from safety, despite the fact that in a geographical sense, she was already lost. But she did not, no, could not return home. There was a place to be for her here, she both knew and felt, and it wasn't located in Watson Avenue.

And so, inspired by every second more that she was invisible in the epicenter of the indifferent crowd, she walked and walked and walked on as the sky around her grew threateningly darker and darker.

She had just reached a sidewalk after waiting for several minutes at a traffic light when, suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, a severe headache struck her. Moaning annoyedly in pain, Ava walked on, only to suddenly collapse a few meters away. It was nothing serious; Ava instantly stood up after and dutifully made her way towards the nearest bench, but once she had reached it, a vision, entirely unexpectedly, hit her with full impact.

_She was lying under a table, covering her head with her hands, trying desperately to make herself invisible. Her heart pounded at an undoubtedly unhealthy rate, threatening to burst and burry Ava beneath its shreads. Something, or someone, scared her beyond recognition._

_"What about this one?" an apathetic, bored yet strikingly beautiful female voice demanded. Deciding she had nothing to lose, Ava removed her hands from her head, allowing her to look up. There, in all their scaringly powerful seeming glory, stood four darkly grey cloaked figures across from a red-haired woman and a boy of about Ava's age beside her._

_They were all unnaturally pale and beautiful, and Ava thought to have noticed that the irises of the short blonde girl who had spoken were crimson. A wave of fear sped through her body._

_"She's ours," the boy hissed. "I fished her off the streets myself about an hour ago. Was on her way to a deserted movie theater downtown, that poor thing. She seemed completely lost. Nobody anybody'll miss."_

_"I doubt that," another voice spoke up. She did not even need to look — she recognized it immediately. _

_It was the man from her vision._

Ava's eyes snapped open in surprise and panic. Quickly scanning her surroundings, she noticed she was still exactly where she'd passed out — on the park bench in the Seattle city center.

With one quick, necessary move of her right hand, the girl cleared her face of sweat. Anxiety filled her. She knew it was completely impossibly for her dream to become reality. Entirely. She knew it was probably just a game her subconscious was playing with her. Why else would that same, mysterious man appear in both of her visions?

But she also knew, felt, that knowledge would not be anything she could count on in this situation.

Completely disoriented, she ran. Her little excursion was over — it was time to come home. She would take doing nothing in that house for hours, she thought, if only she could somehow prevent that vision from becoming reality.

Another wave of both panic and anxiety hit her as she realized she had absolutely no idea what to do to prevent anything from anything.

Blindly running into a direction she thought would get her back to Watson Avenue, she sped past strangers, unwantedly hit old women, almost crashed several cabs. Her vision was blurring, and she could only make out silhouettes.

"Somebody help me!" she screamed, entirely aware of how ridiculous this entire situation was. She had no way of knowing she was in actual danger. For all she knew, she could simply be obsessed with some man she had once seen on the street or something. But at the same time, she just strangely knew. She knew that she was in danger, that her life inevitably would change for the worse if she didn't do something.

But what?

Several meters later, after three or four minutes of running non-stop, her legs gave out on her. She was simply average, after all, including her sprinting skills. Even in life-or-death situations.

Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe, and you will be fine.

"Help!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "HELP!"

Slowly, she looked up from her legs, the pavement. Before her, an old, deserted building cast shadows onto the sidewalks.

She froze as she saw the small, 1 x 5 meter sign over its entrance. In big and bold black and red letters, it read:

**METROPOLIS MOVIE THEATER**

Closed Until Further Notice

Ava succumbed to comforting darkness as a pair of pale, deadly cold arms grabbed her from behind. She had no doubt who they belonged to.


	4. Lost

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended, and I am making no financial gain from this, either.

Chapter 3 — Lost

_**When Ava's eyes**_ reopened, the first thing she felt was shock. There was no confusion or uncertainty concerning her situation; contrarily, the same odd feeling of simply knowing that she could trust the outcome of her vision occupied her. And, as she was sure, that was not at all a good thing.

Despite the agonizingly intense headache that had taken hold of her, the memories of the last few minutes were still easily accessable to her. She remembered running off into the night, the euphoria of feeling free, the cold dread of her vision, the knock on the head infront of the foreshadowed movie theater.

And the icy cold hands that had dragged her away.

No. She had absolutely no doubt concerning where she was now.

Looking up, she found herself lying under a table, on the hard mahogany floor that seemed to be hidden entirely under a thick layer of dust. Infront of her in a distance of several meters stood two pale figures, one more beautiful than the other. The figure to the left, a tall red-haired woman, stood to the right of a door, situated at the very left of the small square room. She was talking to a maybe fifteen year-old boy, broad face framed by a wave of brown hair.

Risking a quick glance out of the window, Ava saw the full moon lighting up the night sky.

"Why did you bring me this one?" the woman demanded furiously, pointing at the frightened girl. "We'll have to fight a war, Riley! How on Earth are we going to do that if you keep bringing me these puny teenagers?"

"You said yourself that only quantity matters," the boy named Riley defended himself. "Nobody'll miss her. She was all alone and confused. I hardly had to touch to make her pass out."

"A weakling!" the woman screeched. "Alone or not, you brought me a weakling!"

Riley sighed. "Fine. Should I give her to Raoul and the others as a treat, then?"

Ava had no idea what the two were talking about, but whatever "a treat" really meant, it had to be something terrible.

The woman thought about this shortly, and Ava found herself praying to end up as anything but a "treat". Eventhough she had no clue what other options there were, it seemed to her then that there was nothing worse in the world than Raoul and his friends.

And, surprisingly enough, her prayers were answered.

"No," the woman finally answered. "No. You're right, one is better than none. No matter how weak." She stared directly at Ava then, and the girl's eyes widened as she saw the woman's blood red eyes for the first time.

"Prepare yourself for a new dimension of pain, girl" she snarled smirkingly. "And try not to get yourself killed too quickly, will you?"

Within the blink of an eye, the woman grabbed her and dragged her towards the center of the room. Ava's desperate cries and kicks were in vain; the creature was much stronger than her, and in a matter of seconds the only thing her body could register was the complete and utter iciness of the touch. Tears streamed down her young face, and she once again asked herself what she had done to deserve this hell.

"What is your name?" the red-head demanded, holding the completely panicked teenager in a deadly embrace. "How old are you? _Who will miss you?_"

"Do answer her," an apathetic yet strangely beautiful female announced her presence from the direction of the door. "We'd like to know too."

Ava winced at the impact as the woman spontaneously dropped her onto the hard floor. "Jane," she greeted the newcomers, an odd devoted tone in her voice. "Demetri, Alec, Felix. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

"So you do know of us," a deep voice chuckled. "Surprisingly enough. We would not have thought vampires with knowledge on the existence of the Volturi to pull stunts alike yours."

"We only-"

"There is no point in trying to surprise us," the apathetic girl interrupted her. "Or hide from us. Or fight us. Or run."

Ava, as frightened as she was, was strangely intruiged by the unknown voices. Gaining all her willpower, she turned her small head towards the visitors and received the shock of her life.

There, dressed in long, floor-length cloaks, stood four equally as pale and red-eyed creatures as her captors — only that one of which was the man from her first vision.

"We're not here to destroy you," the girl, who was about two years younger than Ava and obtained the kind of pathetically beautiful face to make a supermodel seem like a gargoyle, continued. "Yet. We've come to investigate your intentions regarding a certain local clan."

"The Cullens?" Riley asked shyly. He stood in the corner opposite from the door, trying to be invisible.

The man from Ava's vision nodded. "We wonder if they have anything to do with the mayhem you have created in Seattle. Illegally created, if I may add."

Ava froze. She was aware that this was the last situation to drool over a boy in, but the man's voice, smooth as silk, a perfect combination of masculinity and softness, gave her a hard time remembering that.

All of a sudden, their gazes met and it seemed to the both of them that they had seen into the other's soul.

"Who is the girl?" the man asked, ignoring the conversation that had predecended his question.

The woman shrugged. "Just some girl Riley fished off the streets a few minutes ago. Don't worry, nobody'll miss her. Riley said she was all alone and seemed confused."

"Why have you brought her here?" the man insisted.

"Enlargement," was the woman's answer. "We are constantly in need of additions to the army, since some of the brawny types have a knack of killing the weak ones."

"We can't allow that," the girl, Jane, chimed in. "Our sources say that you already possess over twenty newborns. Enough must be enough. Every addition to your illegal project here means several more humans missing, and we cannot allow any more unexplained killings. The city is already dead-set on finding the murderers. Every death more brings them closer to the truth."

"We'll have lost at least another five until the battle. If do not continue turning, we won't stand a chance." The woman explained.

"That is not _our_ problem," the man from my vision stated. "We will give you another week. One more week to train your newborns, since we have a strong disliking towards the coven you are planning to go against. One second more, and we will come for you. And the girl will not be a part of your army."

Ava shivered. Would she end up as Raoul's plaything after all?

"Should we kill her then?" Riley spoke up.

_Please, for the love of God... _

"We'll take care of your mess," the man from Ava's vision replied. "The girl will be coming with us."

For a millisecond, Ava could have sworn, her heart stood still.

What was the meaning of this? Was this worse or better than being left in the woman's and Riley's mercy? And how come the cloaked figures had any interest in her anyway?

Hastily, the woman grabbed her and shoved her towards the door, towards the great unknown, towards her destiny.

"Come with us," the man told her, and she quickly nodded. Shortly after, the door closed behind the group and they walked a few meters until the figures spoke up.

"_What was that about_?" Jane hissed at the man from her vision. "What were you thinking taking that human with us?! Let them do the dirty work. I want to go home."

"It is a sign of power, Jane" he answered. "Taking what was initially theirs. Besides, did you forget that Aro was looking for new lower guard members? Hell, we might as well need a new secretary. She seems old enough. We should take her with us."

The girl sighed. "I hate it when you're right," she said. "But you take care of her. I've no mind for pathetic humans right now."

"Agreed," the man nodded. "You three go on to the private jet. I'll go get her stuff with her."

"Make it quick," a young, brown-haired creature urged.

"I will."

And with that, Ava was alone with the man she had first met in her imagination.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For taking me with you."

The man smirked. "No problem," he assured me smirkingly. "I'm Demetri by the way."

_Demetri_.

"Ava," Ava introduced herself. "Ava Jo Kelling."

"Pleasure making your acquaintance, Ava," Demetri smiled. "Now, where do you live? I believe we have a family to fool."

_What?_

"Why?" Ava asked uncertainly. "Where are you taking me, and why can't we explain it to them?"

"Aren't you cute," he laughed. "I'm taking you to Volterra, Italy" he replied. "And we can't tell them, _hun_', because you see, chances are you'll end up either dead or undead."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Demetri and Ava had finally reached Watson Avenue. Immediately, she saw her mother's car in the driveway. A shiver of dread ran down her spine.

"So here's the plan," he began. "You walk in and throw a tantrum, okay? Pretend like you've been at a club or anything along those lines. Then say you're going away for the night and pack things you absolutely need to have with you. Clothes and hygiene items will be provided for you. If they're giving you trouble, whisper my name and I'll make them pass out. Got it?"

"Got it," Ava nodded, well aware of how wrong what she was about to do was.

Instantly, Demetri vanished into the bushes, and she made my way to the door. It took less than tens second before it was opened.

"Ava?" the figure asked. "Where on Earth have you been? I've been worrying sick about you! What were you thinking?! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"

_Believe me, I do._

* * *

**Author's Note**: Yay, I'm back! I have not spontaneously died and/or abandoned this story.

I know it's not long, but please leave a review. If you'd like an update, that is. Either way, it would be very much appreciated.

To Rosalia, my guest reviewer from my note — in case you're reading this, please, leave a signed review this time. Or really, anyone who decides to leave me a tablet display full of faults to my story, please give me a chance to justify myself and sign your reviews. Thanks so much.


End file.
